"Left! Attack the left!"
"No! There's an opening on his right, aim for the right!"
The monthly trial was underway. Around a fighting stage in the Ghost Tribe, a dense crowd of亡魂 (wanghun - spirits) had gathered, all intently watching the match.
"Clang—" Swords clashed on the stage, then immediately separated.
Zhong Zi looked at the smiling man before him, his head aching slightly.
"Dong Ling, you've been holding back since you stepped onto the stage. What's the meaning of this?"
On the other side of the stage, Dong Ling tilted his head, a faint, enigmatic smile playing on his lips. "I've never held back. It's Lord Zhong who has grown stronger."
Gazing at the smiling man, Zhong Zi pursed his lips, a flicker of anger igniting within him. He was clearly not giving his all, yet he denied it, openly underestimating him?
Zhong Zi gripped his sword and charged forward again, engaging Dong Ling in combat. This time, however, Zhong Zi poured all his strength into his attacks.
Their swords locked in a stalemate, the two men were incredibly close. Dong Ling's gaze swept undisguised over Zhong Zi's face.
Zhong Zi gritted his teeth. Due to the strenuous activity, a fine sheen of sweat had appeared on his forehead, glittering under the sunlight. He looked down at the slender, thick eyelashes, the beautiful, pure grey eyes, the high-bridged nose, and the crimson lips…
"Be careful!" a cry of alarm rose from the亡魂 below.
Dong Ling snapped back to attention, retreating to dodge, but it was too late. Zhong Zi's long sword grazed him, cutting a wide gash from his abdomen to his shoulder. Instantly, bright red blood seeped through his clothes, dripping onto the ground.
Zhong Zi froze, his gaze falling to the blood on his sword before lifting to the blood-drenched Dong Ling. With his skill, he should have easily dodged that blow. Had he been distracted?
Dong Ling slowly reached up to touch his wound. He looked at Zhong Zi, his expression tinged with a hint of grievance. "Lord Zhong is so mean. Why use a honey trap?"
Zhong Zi's mouth twitched, his face a mask of exasperation. "The match is decided. There's no need to continue."
Watching Zhong Zi's retreating back, Dong Ling raised an eyebrow with a light chuckle, a glint of intense interest in his eyes.
...
After the match, the milling亡魂 gathered, seemingly discussing something. Zhong Zi sat to the side, wiping his sword, his voice carrying clearly.
"Did you see that long wound on Lord Dong Ling's front?"
"It looks serious. The亡魂 who watched the match said Lord Dong Ling was helped off the stage."
"That serious?"
"Yes, it seems Lord Dong Ling is still bedridden."
Zhong Zi's hand, wiping his sword, paused. He couldn't help but recall Dong Ling's smug expression when he left the stage. It must have been faked… That blow, he had been careful, not intending to inflict serious injury, certainly not enough to confine Dong Ling to bed…
With that thought, he resumed wiping his sword, but his movements became increasingly restless, almost as if beyond his control. Carelessly, his finger was cut by the sharp blade, drawing blood.
"Sigh—"
Zhong Zi let out a long sigh. He sheathed his sword and stood up, heading in the direction of Dong Ling's dwelling. However, when he actually reached Dong Ling's door, he found himself unable to raise his hand to knock.
Holding a topical herbal medicine for wounds, Zhong Zi paced back and forth outside the door. Why had he actually come? And with medicine? Injuries in the Ghost Tribe healed so quickly; those rumors must be false. But… what if they were true? What if his sword had truly injured Dong Ling severely?
Wavering, Zhong Zi decided he had to see Dong Ling's injuries for himself. He reached out towards the closed door, but just as he was about to knock, the door suddenly swung open from the inside. An arm, speckled with water droplets, shot out and yanked Zhong Zi inside.
"Bang—" The door slammed shut with force.
Inside, Zhong Zi was pinned against the door, a magnified handsome face directly before him, dark eyes staring intently at him.
"Why doesn't Lord Zhong come in?" Dong Ling's eyes, black as ink, fixed on the person before him. His upper body was wet and bare, while a blanket was draped around his lower half. His long hair cascaded down his back, still shedding droplets of water. He had been bathing! Zhong Zi, facing the person so close, turned his head away, his ears flushing a deep red.
"You… your wound… you shouldn't get it wet…"
"My wound?" Dong Ling looked down at his own body, then a roguish smile curved his lips. "Lord Zhong is worried about me?" He leaned closer, his breath fanning Zhong Zi's ear.
Zhong Zi gritted his teeth, his heart pounding. "If you're fine, I'll be leaving!"
"I'm not."
Dong Ling looked at the flushed person before him, a playful smile on his lips. "I have something big."
A tugging sensation, and before Zhong Zi could react, Dong Ling pulled him into the bathtub together. Water splashed, creating ripples. Zhong Zi's face instantly turned scarlet. "You! What are you doing!"
Dong Ling wrapped his long arms around the person in his embrace, his head nuzzling into Zhong Zi's shoulder. His warmth, his scent, his breath – everything was so intoxicating…
"Wasn't Lord Zhong here to see my wound?"
"Then look carefully… don't miss a single spot…"
Dong Ling gently guided Zhong Zi's hand, leading it slowly downward from his shoulder…
Zhong Zi shivered violently. Almost as soon as his hand reached his abdomen, he snatched it back. "That's enough!"
"Splash—" He stood up, stepping out of the bathtub, water still dripping from him. "Today, I came because I was worried about you, and what have you done?"
Dong Ling lowered his gaze, a hard-to-read emotion surfacing in his eyes. "Does Lord Zhong… dislike me?"
Zhong Zi faltered, his hands, which were drying his clothes with spiritual energy, paused. Dislike… Dong Ling?
Dong Ling raised his eyes, his dark gaze locking onto Zhong Zi. "Do you dislike being in contact with me like this?"
Silence filled the room. Zhong Zi bit his lower lip, thoroughly drying his clothes. Dislike him? Dislike this kind of contact?
Zhong Zi turned, bracing his hands on the edge of the bathtub, meeting Dong Ling's gaze. "You like me… is that serious?" Dong Ling always had a smiling, carefree demeanor, as if nothing truly bothered him. Thus, Zhong Zi still believed Dong Ling was merely finding this situation amusing and wished to continue playing.
In the bathtub, Dong Ling's eyes did not waver. He met Zhong Zi's gaze for a long time, his expression one of unprecedented seriousness. "If I say I like you, want to possess you, I like you, want to marry you?"
Zhong Zi stood stunned. In that moment, he felt as if he were trapped in Dong Ling's eyes, pulled into an abyss with him. "When did it start…"
"It never changed."
Zhong Zi's hands, hanging by his robes, trembled uncontrollably. His heart pounded wildly, out of sync. It's bad… Why, upon hearing these words, did he not feel anger, but rather a flutter of the heart…
Zhong Zi covered his face, his entire countenance a shade of impossibly deep red. Although he hadn't answered Dong Ling, it seemed an answer was no longer necessary…
"Lord Zhong?"
"Don't call me…"
"Lord Zhong, Lord Zhong, Lord Zhong?"
"…"